“What foolishness is this? Something your sister Bridget cooked up? Honestly, this house is a madhouse. Between your squalling mother, leering brother and fairy-crazed sister, it is a wonder you aren’t all in the sanitarium.”
I did not back down despite the intended offense. She was a hateful girl, and she did not like me now that I had caught her doing something criminal. Yet she had forgotten about the paper, and I wanted it that way.
“Oh, it is true. The spirits stir today, Aubrey.” I showed her my pin. I even pricked my own finger with it in front of her and bit my lip so I wouldn’t cry out. I let the blood droplets hit the floor. How angry Bridget would have been to see my precious blood gone to waste. “My sister, Tallulah, was in the garden just a few minutes ago. I saw her. Why would she linger here if not for revenge? I wonder if there is something she forgot to do. Something left undone? Perhaps she wants to tell us a secret. Yes, that’s probably it!”
Aubrey smirked again. “I don’t think we need to guess why she would be here. She is damned. Anyone who takes her own life is damned. Dead and damned. Now stop this childish talk.”
I took another step toward her, the pin still in my hand. I felt rage rising up inside me, rage that she would speak so ill of my dead Golden Sister. Although I did not know why, I knew that Aubrey hated Tallulah, even in death.
“No. She will never rest.”
And yet another step. Now I was between her and the fireplace. She remembered and wanted to retrieve the paper. I could see her face become even more pinched. She made a half step toward the crumpled ball, but I stamped my foot like an angry horse. She tried again, and I stamped again and waved the pin like a wand. I put myself between the paper and her, the pin in my hand. It was like I was Bridget now. Mad and ready to pierce flesh. How had this happened?
She scowled at me and left Tallulah’s room. No. Now it was my room. I would insist on it. When the wooden door closed behind me, I threw the pin in the small stack of firewood and retrieved the unlit paper. I knew right away it was a letter. A letter to Tallulah from Aubrey.
I sat on the floor and read it, and then read it again.
Dear Sister, Our Tallulah,
Although it is very kind of you to greet us at every station with a letter, I must ask that you refrain from doing so further. Your letters, though sweet and entertaining in the beginning, have become a source of discomfort to your brother, especially in light of the knowledge that you have chosen to refuse marriage to Richard Chestnut, a respectable man in our county who wants to make you lady of your own house. How angry Percy became when he heard of your truculent attitude and your refusal to provide him this happiness! Upon hearing the news of your miserable behavior, it took all my wits to keep him from returning home to compel you to behave with proper decorum. Even your father is nearing wit’s end.
It is time to grow up, sister. Time to leave childhood things and affections behind.
Now please, dear Tallulah, refrain from upsetting your brother further with your notes. For we know what you intend, and it displeases us greatly. Only write us to tell us that you will indeed marry Mr. Richard Chestnut, who is also my own cousin and tells me he thinks of nothing but becoming your bridegroom. I can vouch that he is an honorable man who will shower you with affection.
Put your brother’s mind at ease. Write to say that you will no longer reside at Idlewood with us, that you have found a new place with Mr. Chestnut at Laurie House. This and only this is what I will convey to him, sister. If you cannot obey your father, brother and all of those who advise you, then please do not write to us again. We will speak of this matter no more until our return.
We will return to Mobile at the completion of our Honeymoon sometime within the next month. Please see that my china and other items are installed safely in their proper places. These generous gifts from your brother deserve a place of honor in our home at Idlewood.
With Disappointment and Sadness,
Mrs. Aubrey Ferguson
Again, my child’s mind did not understand the inner workings of adulthood, but even I knew this was not a kind letter from a loving “sister.” Certainly not one that Tallulah would have enjoyed receiving. So why was Aubrey trying to burn it unless she wanted to prevent Percy from reading it? Then and there I pledged to myself and the ghost of my sister that I would see that he did read it! Percy would know the truth!
I shook with the knowledge that filled my mind.
Tallulah had done the evil deed when she was out of her mind! It had been Aubrey who had tricked Tallulah! Percy would never have written such a letter nor sanctioned Aubrey to do so! Wicked girl, indeed!
Now what should I do? No doubt Aubrey would be back for her letter. I couldn’t leave it here. I’d have to put it somewhere safe. Very safe. Where nobody could find it and burn it.
Where magic would protect it.
Forever.
***
Suddenly the sound of crying broke into my dream. It was my mother’s voice that woke me. I slung back the thin sheet I’d covered up with and walked to her hospital bed quietly. She was whispering, whispering something.
Percy… such a letter…Wicked girl, indeed!
I couldn’t explain it, and I had not expected it, but the truth was pretty plain. My mother was a dream catcher. Whether she could dream walk on her own or only with someone else, she had heard and seen my dream. I had the proof now. No more wondering where I got the gift from.
How long had this been going on?
Oh, Momma! What else haven’t you told me?
Chapter Fourteen – Detra Ann
I’d had three days of serious depression—but no drinking so far. That was a miracle. I slipped out of my mother’s house; I’d been staying in her guest room and ignoring her attempts to come and chat with me. I didn’t want to see her gloat. I knew she’d always had her doubts about Henri and wouldn’t hold back now, but there was more to it than she knew. And I wasn’t up for the same old arguments we’d had a million times before.
I’d bought the bottle on the way here and put it in the center of the table. For three days, I walked by it and stared at it. Eventually, I opened it. But I couldn’t bring myself to drink it. I wanted to. I wanted to forget Henri and even T.D. and everything else.
But I didn’t want to forget Lenore, who gave her life for me.
I didn’t want to forget Aleezabeth.
I didn’t want to forget who Harry and I had been.
Instead, I’d go find Aleezabeth. And then whatever happened, happened. I didn’t know how, but my destiny was all tangled up with a dead girl’s, and I had to figure out how to untangle it. Nothing was ever easy, was it?
I drove to New Orleans and checked into Hotel Monteleone. It was a lovely old hotel, and I’d been here before while in college. One day, Henri and I would come here and celebrate our marriage with a lengthy honeymoon. That first night in New Orleans, I ate a good meal, the first one in days, and went back to my room. I began making phone calls and arranged a meeting with a detective that my cousin Alcide had recommended.
His name was Brendan Bennett; he was a lifelong resident of the Dumont area and was familiar with my case. He gave me his price, and I agreed to it and told him I expected answers soon. We were meeting for coffee in the morning. So why did I pick this guy over everyone else? Because he hadn’t lied to me. Not once. I liked that. He didn’t promise me anything, but he was confident and knew how to proceed.
I reread the very lengthy texts Carrie Jo sent me. I wasn’t angry with her. I just wanted to do this alone. This would be my wedding gift to Harry. I would be the one to set him free. That’s what you did for the people you loved. And I knew he loved me. I didn’t agree that we must wait to marry, but I wasn’t going to belabor the point any longer with him.
I was going to get it done, one way or another. I was going back to Mobile with the Aleezabeth mystery solved. No matter how long it took. No matter what it cost me. I would make this happen. I scanned the texts
from Carrie Jo for information again. Apparently Ashland had seen Aleezabeth on a regular basis. Thanks for telling us, buddy. And to make matters more complicated, according to Ashland, Aleezabeth passed on some valuable information. She had been with a man with a mustache who played the saxophone when she disappeared. I knew that description fit Harry’s father. If Harry believed Ashland, he would suspect his father. No love lost between those two. We didn’t even know if he was alive or dead, and when I’d once mentioned finding him, Harry had lost it. There’d been no convincing him. I suspected all that would change now.
I’d know more tomorrow. In the meantime I crawled in the bed and flipped through the photos on my phone. My favorite was about halfway into the pictures from the night Harry had surprised me with the ring. He’d been so sweet, and thousands of pairs of eyes had been on me. Of course, my mother thought it was hokey proposing on a Jumbotron, but I loved it. If we could have gotten married right then, I would have done it. Yeah, this was kind of my fault. He’d begged me to run off to Vegas with him, but I’d insisted on a church wedding. And when that fell through (thanks to good old Mom), I’d come up with the brilliant idea of getting married at Seven Sisters. It seemed right at the time.
Now I realized that I’d made a mistake. I shouldn’t have insisted that we wait—who knew if we’d make it to the altar at all now? New Orleans was a noisy place, even at night, but I liked the noise. It let me know that even though Death came for me once, I’d escaped it. I had a life ahead of me. A good life with the man I loved. I couldn’t go another night without texting him, so I did just that.
In New Orleans. I’m okay. I’ll call soon.
Immediately I got a text back.
Be safe. I’m here. I love you.
I answered with a smiley face and fell asleep. I felt like I had just closed my eyes when I woke to the sound of someone knocking politely on the door. I wasn’t expecting anyone, but I did glance at the clock. It was seven a.m. right on the dot. “Who is it?” I asked cautiously. New Orleans wasn’t the place to be swinging open doors without asking questions first.
“Room service, ma’am. I have breakfast with coffee.”
I shoved my wild hair away from my face, pulled on a t-shirt and a pair of shorts, pattered to the door and peeked out the peephole. Definitely a tray and a pot of steaming coffee. A woman in a white coat. Looked legit, but she must have had the wrong room.
I opened the door and said, “That smells wonderful, but I didn’t order any breakfast.” I crossed my arms and leaned against the doorframe. No sense in being hard on the woman. She was just trying to do her job. Besides, if there was more where that came from, I was definitely interested. The young woman pulled a card from the tray and stared at the door number.
“417. That’s right. Breakfast for one for Detra Ann Dowd, courtesy of Henri Devecheaux. Oh, and the flowers are from him too.”
“What?” A goofy smile spread across my face.
“Yes, ma’am. Would you like me to set that up for you on the balcony?”
“Sure.” I let her in, and she quickly set up the small table and pulled out a chair.
“Thank you so much.”
“You are welcome.” She smiled down with her hand on the silver lid. With a polite flourish, she removed the lid. I nearly cried—it was a plate of hot beignets and a cup of fresh fruit. My absolute favorite breakfast. She poured me a cup of black coffee and laid a linen napkin in my lap. “When you’re finished, just set the tray outside. I’ll be back for it in a bit. Enjoy your breakfast.”
“Thank you again. I didn’t catch your name.”
“It’s Mitch. Like Margaret Mitchell, not Michelle.”
“Mom a fan of Scarlett O’Hara’s?”
“You don’t know the half of it. My sister’s name is Melanie.”
“Well, at least you didn’t get stuck with Scarlett.”
She rolled up her sleeve and showed me a bright tattoo that read: Scarlett Mitchell Jones. It made me smile.
“Nice to meet you, Mitch. Thanks again.”
With a polite smile, Mitch left me to cry in my beignets alone.
Chapter Fifteen – Rachel
Gran placed tick marks on her Disney calendar with a fat-barreled red Sharpie. She had something planned in T-minus seven days, and although she was very hush-hush about it, she seemed very excited. This would be her sixty-fifth birthday, and she was bound and determined to do something she’d never done before. Nobody knew what the something was, but I was pretty sure it involved my old room. It was a puzzle, and when she got ready to tell me about it, I’d know. I couldn’t believe it was March already.
Things had “quieted down” at Idlewood, but I had a sneaking suspicion it had a lot to do with the number of people coming in and out of there. After the mold issue got resolved we moved on to Sheetrock, woodwork and painting on the construction side. On the historical side, we worked with our Adept software to create a catalog of items with notes about placement, requisition and a thousand other things. Sadly, I spent a lot of time at the office now since Mr. Taylor placed a heavy emphasis on the paperwork side of things. He was very much a numbers kind of guy. At least his wife was a sweet person. But I was at the house a couple of times a week, and not just to see Angus. Whenever I went to Idlewood I still felt eyes watching me; I heard the occasional whisper of Rachel Kowalski and heard the sound of tiny feet running in the attic above me from time to time whenever I walked around the second floor.
Carrie Jo mentioned that she’d dreamed about the house a few times, but with the drama unfolding with her best friend and her mother, she hadn’t given me any details about what it was that she saw.
“Are you sure he has to come by tonight? What if I wanted to walk around in my underwear?”
“Gran, I don’t understand you. I know you don’t like him. Tell me why.” I slapped my hand on the counter and put the other one on my hip. She gave me a shrug and put the Sharpie back in its caddy. “Why are you being so evasive?” When I could see she wasn’t going to tell me anything else, I put the finishing touches on my Chicken Doritos casserole and slid it in the oven. Forty minutes of baking time, and then it was ooey-gooey chicken heaven. Hopefully Angus appreciated a good casserole because this was my go-to recipe. Well, the only one I felt comfortable offering to anyone I liked.
My mother was off tonight, so this worked out perfectly. I wanted her to meet him. Surely she’d like him. I couldn’t figure out Gran.
“He’s going to get you into trouble,” Gran said matter-of-factly as she poured herself a glass of peach iced tea.
I laughed nervously. “Gran, we haven’t even kissed yet. I hardly think he’s going to get me in trouble.”
“Not that kind of trouble, Miss Smarty Pants.” The doorbell rang, and I hugged her playfully.
“I’ll be fine. Now put on a happy face and trust me.” I handed her my apron and practically bounced to the front door. As I passed my apartment door, I quickly closed it. I wasn’t ready to invite Angus into my room yet, and even after the move I hadn’t put everything away. Nope, I wasn’t rushing this relationship, not like I did with Chip. I regretted that misstep big time. Strangely enough I knew that Angus would have liked Chip, but I wasn’t sure that the feeling would have been mutual. Chip hated all things supernatural, and Angus had a real love for them. In fact, he was an amateur ghost hunter as well as an electrical genius. That thrilled me down to my socks.
Angus had finally come clean with me about his first visit to Idlewood. He worked for the electrical contractor we hired, but he’d only stopped by that day to take a peek at the house. Apparently the reason he left without saying goodbye was because someone shoved him so hard it took the wind out of him. An invisible someone. He’d been busy digging in his truck for a tool when wham! It hit him on the back and launched him halfway into the van. When he could finally get up, he left. Not very chivalrous, I pointed out, but he apologized for his abrupt departure. And I accepted it. Gran called me naïve, bu
t so what? I did believe him.
If Detra Ann were back from New Orleans, I’d have asked her for her opinion. But as it stood now, I had no reason not to trust him.
Despite the fact he’d come to the house under false premises and ran like a scared dog at the first sign of trouble.
“Howdy!” I said, welcoming him into the house. He’d been here at least a dozen times before, and as always he wiped his shoes and hung up his jacket politely. I could hear Gran’s bedroom door shut, but I smiled through it.
Mom walked in the living room with her nose in a paperback. I had a pretty mother, very pretty. She was taller than me by three inches and had silky black hair that she liked to pull back in a barrette. Tonight she wore some “mom clothes,” thankfully, and she greeted Angus like he was my high school sweetheart.
“Nice to meet you Angus. Dinner smells wonderful, Rachel. Can I get you guys something to drink?” I liked my mother. I knew not everyone could say that about their mothers, but she was a nice lady. Even if she was a bit distant at times. She worked hard and treated me well … I had nothing to complain about. I wished she’d get out more, but hey, who was I to judge? She did love cuddling up with her Harlequins. In fact, for her birthday I’d loaded her up with a box of them I’d found in great condition at the Goodwill.
“So what’s that one called, Mom?”
“Torn Asunder in the Highlands,” she said with a big grin. “Oh my. I hope that’s not offensive.”
“Um…” Angus rubbed his ginger eyebrow and grinned. “No, but it doesn’t sound too romantic to me.”
With that we sat on Gran’s plaid sofas and talked about what it was like growing up in Scotland. Angus and my mother were both exceedingly polite. It was weird. Ten minutes before supper was ready, Gran came down, thankfully not in her underwear.
“Rachel? Is supper ready yet? I’ve got to take my medicine, and I need to eat soon.”
The Ghosts of Idlewood Page 11
